


Stone Faces

by ThatSpicySeaFlapFlap



Series: Masks that Hide our World [1]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Gen, Red Room
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 21:54:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15034133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatSpicySeaFlapFlap/pseuds/ThatSpicySeaFlapFlap
Summary: Life isn't pure, but the Widow is.





	Stone Faces

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so hey people! This is my first posted work, so please have CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM, not flames. I'm not that emotionally developed, so I might like cry, sad tears........ but on with the story, I don't think y'all want my life story.

Natasha Romanoff was the Black Widow. A Russian assassin with a traumatic backstory, a warrior fit for the Avengers Initiative. A deadly woman that had drug lords cowering in fear, a face in which haunted murders nightmares. Natasha Romanoff was strong.  
Natalia Romanova was a little girl. A little girl trapped within the walls of Russia, trapped within the walls of her mind as her home sputtered up in flames. Natalia, unlike Natasha, was like a glob of clay, one that Ivan could shape. Ivan did shape that clay until almost every hint of Natalia was drained from Natasha, leaving him a Blane canvas he could paint with the blood of his enemies. Natalia Romanova was dead.  
The Red Room was a place of children's night terrors. It was like a bat, a silent predator that stalks its prey, and snatches it with its strong jaws, preventing any chance of escape. The Room highly discouraged love, maybe it was because they were Russian, maybe not, but they highly discouraged love, any love. So all of the students, the trainees for the Red Room remained untouched by the homophobia and the racism and sexism of the outside world. The Red Room was pure.  
Nat was a light. A light that people followed, a voice that was rallied to. Nat didn't care if you like girls or boys or palm trees, she didn't care if you were dark or pale or some shade in between. She never learned to, Nat grew up sheltered from the world, all while she endured her own hell in the prison of the Red Room. She became steel, untouchable to the cruel stereotypes the world has build. Nat was immune.


End file.
